As Americans ponder the lessons of the year gone by, worry about why their clothes don’t fit, weigh the virtues of fresh water vs. rye whiskey, and compare the benefits of tiddlywinks and free-style swimming, it dawns upon large swathes of the public that while our regime allows us to emerge as one out of many, the libs work overtime to make us out of one, multi, each at the others’ throats.
It behooves us to once again learn to live as resolute God-fearing Americans, and that begins with making resolutions. What else was the Mayflower Compact? To aid in this task, we at TAS are offering as a public service choices in key sectors that should be no-brainers but due to liberal perfidy have become too agonizing in their complexity to be resolved. Well, look at the choices. And if you still can’t see your way clearly to the Right Resolution, study the accompanying play-by-play analysis.
Resolution: Support your local clergy!
Irresolution: Pedophiles and sex maniacs?
It is no secret that churches and synagogues both have been shaken by embarrassing scandals, some of a s*xual nature. Let us be honest, men are men — some, anyway. And sin is tempting, it would not be sin otherwise. And institutions are human. So the law must be firm, if tinged with compassion.
Resolution: Stay fit, lower health costs
Irresolution: What about my brother-in-law at the AFT?
Alcohol and tobacco are not good for your lungs, heart, and liver, but all this means is that they should be abused only at certain moments and in extreme moderation. The rest of the time you can assuage your doubts with strong coffee. A meal copied from the menu at the Palm is unkind to hooved animals, but you can be sensible and admit the ethics of indulging once a year are questionable, but answerable. Herman Ruth was known to eat hot dogs and the fit guy who raced across the South Pole recently may well have been carrying a flask. Just don’t be selfish at the expense or to the detriment of someone else’s physical or mental capacity.
As to your brother-in-law at the AFT, suggest he keep his shirt on or transfer to the U.S. Marshals, and give up this mania to control other people’s drinking, smoking, and shooting habits, which are none of his or the feds’ business. Anyone who knows anything about firearms knows guns should be kept locked up in the glove compartment of your car where the wrong hands cannot get at them, unless you are D. French and have a concealed carry permit, then you can carry them around on your person and boldly decline to run for president. Remember, guns don’t kill people, bad guys do, or they set themselves up to be shot at close range by concealed carry citizens. Also, if guns are outlawed only outlaws will have guns. To conclude, no illegal immigrant should be issued a gun permit or a driver’s license or permitted to buy spirits.
As you see, there is no need to fear making self-improvement personal resolutions for 2019! All it takes is willpower. Now we as a nation must get our act together. Although agreeing to disagree is standard etiquette in polite society and a free country, certain public issues have been discussed in crude and overwrought language of late, subverting government. Not good government, an oxymoron, but government, in toto and in tutu.
Once that is clear, we can address high matters of state.
Resolution: Heighten the profile of the White House Tennis Courts
Irresolution: Who cares about a sissy country club sport?
Of all the promises made during the ’16 Campaign, one of those that remain unfulfilled is the appointment of a (conservative) director of athletics for the W.H. Tennis Courts. These have been less used of late than they were the last time there was a dedicated tennis player in the W.H., namely the much regretted G.H.W. Bush. This was the last time we had a normal presidency and when, not by coincidence, we were unchallenged ’round the world.
Few people realize that the W.H. tennis courts consist of one court. Another interesting fact is that although President Bush was a fine amateur player, the only president who fully realized the court’s political potential was Theodore Roosevelt, the NYC Police Commissioner and Rough Rider (not a sissy). He played with off-court adversaries and sometimes major policy decisions hinged on the final score. If he crushed you, he knew he was right. Good sport, the future Bull Moose was known to reconsider an issue if someone with a different view beat him.
Funny I can’t think of any examples, but note, too, that Emmanuel Macron, the French prez, plays in a private club in the north of France, where he and the missus have a second home, under the tutelage of Patrice Kuchna the local pro and a former Great of the Yannick Noah generation. The French team lost to little Croatia in the final edition of the once-classic (and classy) Davis Cup tournament, which as of next year is to be bowdlerized beyond recognition by Sports Globalists in pursuit of lucre. Mr. Macron might take note that little Croatia’s neighbor is little Hungary, and it might occur to him that instead of venting his frustrations on little Hungary because they have a rational border-control policy he could start minding his own, which is completely out of whack— like ours.
Instead of handshake wrestling, the two celebrity Outsiders who captured their countries’ ultimate inside political prize could settle their mano a mano on the court, under the supervision of a newly appointed (conservative) director of W.H Tennis, who as a perk would get to hit a few with Mr. Kuchna and thus get a clinic in the area of his choice, such as the kick serve. Since (conservatives) and the House Ethics Committee believe there is no such thing as an innocent free clinic, it would be payable in dollars or euros, out of his own pocket, up front and recorded on smart phone.
The spectacle of the 70-year-old Queens sportsman trouncing the young (age 40) dandy from Champagne — or maybe it’s Normandy — would electrify international relations. But it would be a win-win as it would definitely assuage the fears of the French public that their prez is a haughty global elitist. He could be photo-opped sporting a smart yellow vest over his whites for the occasion and wielding a made-in-France Babolat Pure Aero racquet, countering the (recommended, conservative) made-in-USA Wilson Pro Staff Pete Sampras model used by the home side. If any inquiring muckraker checked the small print for the telltale “made in China” note on the sticks, he could be denounced by Senator Graham as a fake news wimp and sent back to an empty football stadium to work his way back up to an elite beat.
Resolution: Help the Freedom-fighting Kurds!
Irresolution: Not our problem.
There’re pros and cons on this one, and the best solution would be to finesse it by finding ways of giving them what they need to defy the neo-Ottoman forces of Recep Erdogan while defending their land against the child-killing poison gas-spewing death squads of the Assad clan and other proxies of the woman-hating Perso-Shia Khomaniacs.
Keep in mind that Lend Lease, as a policy (bipartisan), worked pretty good, despite it enabled Stalin’s occupation of eastern and central Europe, violating every promise he made at Yalta. A small gallant band of French special forces is sticking with the Kurds and preparing a stand worthy of Camarone, but their supplies, including medevacs, depend on the U.S. Army and if we cut them off what will happen?
Resolution: Quit the Middle East entirely!
Irresolution: What if not-nice people take advantage?
The military and civilian national security hard noses are annoyed at the way the prez brushed aside their advice to maintain forces in Kurdistan, blocking the wicked designs of the killers of Americans who surround the territory of the embattled pro-Western autonomous region. But though the Statue of Liberty is recognized ’round the world, it stands in New York harbor, capice?, as little Hungary found out in ’56.
American policy has been to try to keep foreign powers out of the Middle East so that we can deal constructively with the Arabs and advise them on why they should reconsider their attitude toward Jews, women, small boys, black Africans, South Asian laborers, Filipina maids. More fundamentally, since the historic meeting during World War II between FDR (the Rough Rider’s cousin) and the Original Saud, American officials have urged the locals to use some of the money they keep getting thanks to the black gold extracted by Western engineering to “build” actual real “nations” instead of sticking to primitive clans partial to bathroom haberdashery.
It used to be said sotto voce and off the record in Israeli security circles that one way to deal with the Palestinian Arabs would be to hire Turk construction workers. Israel produces inventors, scientists, agronomists, doctors, musicians, scholars, and entrepreneurs so there is always a lot of construction going on, and you do not need an official in striped pants to spend tax payer money writing a memo on whether this constitutes “nation building.” So the hired hands, guest workers from Turkey known to be muscle boys who enter weightlifting competitions dressed in tight underwear, would be brought to construction sites.
“The idea is,” an Israeli hard nose once told me, maybe tongue in cheek, “you tell the Turks on their lunch break, ‘Other side of the street, see? Arab neighborhood. Might find the carry-outs to your taste. But, ah, take along one of the two-by’s lying around the site, eh? Ya never know…’”
Intuitively, the idea was, the Turks would revert to the habits of their Ottoman predecessors in Arab lands (as well as in the Balkans) and deal with malcontents their way. But this was considered inhumane and was shelved. President Trump, inadvertently perhaps, heard something half-spoken when Erdogan, rais of Turkey, was on the wire and cooed, “Let us deal with the Syriac Arabs, Effendi-sir Excellency. We know. How do deal with them. And not to worry about your little Kurds.”
He may have a point — not that I’m saying he said this, just sayin’, and I know the prez would never condone such a thing. He knows the Kurds can deal with the Turks, thanks to lend-lease. Kurds, with heroic gals in their fighting ranks and each and every boy a descendant of Saladin, who clashed with the Crusaders, and notably England’s Richard I, called the Lionheart, on the field of battle, can keep the Turks at bay even as the latter are two-by’ing the A’s. It will be a great playoff.
In historical fact, in the finals Richard was ahead on points (places recovered from the Infidel), but it ended in a draw because he left without securing Jerusalem. Importantly. he and Saladin grew to respect each other. Richard even tried to broker a marital alliance between their families, but they could not agree on who should convert to whose religion and it did not occur to them to suggest the bride and groom convert to Judaism as a compromise.
Anticipating Brexit, Richard was a French as well as an English king. Foreseeing the welfare state and the National Health Service, his most loyal man was the leader of a thieves’ ring called Robin the Hood, known as the Softheart due to his notion that wealth should be spread around a little. He was not against guns and prayers, however, nor longbows. In an early expression of the Marxist concept of “expropriating the expropriators,” he rebelled against the unfair tax policies — but what tax policies aren’t? — of the regent, Prince John, a real snake, whose top enforcer was the Sheriff of Nottingham, much maligned in the subsequent folklore. For, if you think about it, he was none other than a Wyatt Earp prototype, standing tall for law and order. It was all very romantic, thanks to Marian the Maid, depicted as a beautiful English lass but, who is to say, Robin the Hood, who accompanied Richard on one of his early Crusading ventures, could have returned with a beautiful Kurdish lass. They did not leave photographs.
As a French king, though, Richard might inspire Emmanuel Macron, the contemporary monarch of France, that sometimes hoodies — and vests — are symptoms of loyalty to the higher reasons of state. The yellow vests of today are, after all, rebelling against the confiscatory tax policies of Jacobin France that Macron, as candidate, promised to reform. They demand, as did Robin, that the wealth be shared more evenly as between rich and poor, not that anyone in France is poor poor. They replaced all the old pissoirs with ugly greenish coin-operated steel traps where you can get stuck inside.
Resolution: Support the French Tax Revolt!
Irresolution: Let the French be French
Macron enjoys lecturing the French on how lazy they are and Trump on the importance of being a reliable ally. Ably seconded by his country’s respectable media, the young prez has been deploring the American “stab in the back” of the Kurds. My advice is to take it easy, eh? Who put sticks in our wheels when we tried to clean up the terror-states of Mesopotamia? Who abandoned the Christians of Lebanon — a French protectorate since the days of King Richard the Lionhearted and the gallant Geofroy de Bouillon — to the truck-bomb driving Hezbollah barbarians? Whose terror tunnels the Israelis are now wisely blowing up even as the loyalty-to-your-allies French once again denounce “illegal settlements” in the smelly conference rooms of the “international community.” Israel, instead of continuing to build a real nation out of desert and swamp, should do like the non-Jews and live in underground basement hovels? Thanks, Manny.
Okay, one last one.
Resolution: Deep red white and blue for you, baby!
And to all, a good year.
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